


It Had to Be You

by raspberrycordial (dianabarry)



Category: Check Please! (Webcomic)
Genre: Competitive Fake Orgasms, Derek Nurse has a Lumberjack Kink, Fluff, Fluffy Chirping, Get Together, M/M, Seriously Almost Entirely Fluff, Tooth-Rotting Fluff, When Harry Met Sally - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-04
Updated: 2017-01-04
Packaged: 2018-09-14 15:40:12
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 2,694
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9190046
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dianabarry/pseuds/raspberrycordial
Summary: I came here tonight because when you realize you want to spend the rest of your life with somebody, you want the rest of your life to start as soon as possible.Three New Year's Eves in the Haus, featuring cuddles, rom coms, hot chocolate, and first kisses.





	1. Sophomore Year

**Author's Note:**

> I can't thank DizzyRedhead and ahausonfire enough for being such amazing cheerleaders, editors, and inspirations, because I know I wouldn't have written anything if I didn't have those two to encourage me to actually write down ideas when I drink wine and watch movies. 
> 
> All of the quotes are from When Harry Met Sally. The fake orgasms are inspired by [ this scene](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=F-bsf2x-aeE), in case you haven't watched it or just want a re-watch. The title is from It Had to Be You by Frank Sinatra, featured in the aforementioned movie.

_ I came here tonight because when you realize you want to spend the rest of your life with somebody, you want the rest of your life to start as soon as possible. _

Derek woke up slowly. When he'd suggested ending the night with When Harry Met Sally, he hadn't mentioned that it was a New Year's Eve tradition for him and his sister. He didn't need to open his eyes to know that they still had one final scene and Louis Armstrong and Ella Fitzgerald crooning through the credits before the movie was truly over. He and Jessie would always get a little teary eyed at this point; it's chill, though, he can appreciate the poetic appeal of the Grand Gesture. And the champagne never hurt. 

This year, though, Jessie couldn't take off work and it didn't make sense for her to fly in from Seattle for one day.  His parents had invited him to their New Year's Eve gala, but Derek hated the thought of dressing up, putting on a camera-ready smile, and not unwinding with Jessie at the end of the night.

So this year, instead of yelling at Billy Crystal with Jessie, he was curled up on the floor of the Haus. They'd abandoned the couch in favor of a pile of blankets, pillows, and cushions on the floor. Well, he, Dex, and Chowder had, anyway. Ransom and Holster were curled around each other in the armchair in a way that defied the laws of physics. There was something interesting in the way they seemed to melt into each other. Maybe there was a poem there; Derek made a mental note to work on that later.

The laws of gravity were decidedly more in play on the blanket pile. Sleepy Chowder trended more towards an octopus than a shark, so Derek had a snoring goalie draped across his torso. Dex, meanwhile, was wrapped around a pillow next to them, dressed in what looked to be the softest sweater Derek had ever seen. Derek missed Jessie, but he wouldn't argue with starting a new year surrounded by his best friends, content and weighed down with the comforting warmth of snuggles and blankets.

_ It only took three months.  
_ _ Twelve years and three months.  _

Sniffling to his left interrupted Derek's contemplation of the nature of platonic love, soulmates, and bro culture. He turned to look at Dex, who apparently wasn't asleep.

“Don't fuckin’ say a word, Nurse.”

“Chill, Poindexter, I wouldn't dream of it.” Derek smirked and stretched his arm out to create an open space. Dex wiggled his way over, abandoning his pillow, and curled into Derek’s side. Dex’s sweater grazed Derek's side where his shirt had rucked up, confirming that it was, in fact, the softest sweater ever. 

By the time the credits rolled, Chowder was still snoring (seriously, if he hadn't heard tales of Farmer's ability to sleep anywhere and everywhere, he'd be worried for her). Ransom and Holster shifted into yet another cat-like position that shouldn't be comfortable, but actually looked perfect. Dex had stopped sniffling and Derek gave his shoulders a quick squeeze; in response, Dex simply buried his face in Derek's neck and curled closer to his side. 

It wasn't his traditional New Year's Eve, but Derek could work with this. 


	2. Junior Year

Will slowly shut the door behind him, leaning against the wall and soaking up the blissful quiet. He loved working at Annie’s; his coworkers were great and the pay was decent when people remembered to tip, but the cold snap today meant that the coffee shop had been packed. Nursey had texted that they were going to Murder Stop ‘n Shop for supplies; judging by the quiet, he must’ve beat them back.

After setting his apron down, Will surveyed the living room. If he swiped the cushions from the couch and raided Chowder’s stuffed shark stash, he could improve on last year’s impromptu pile.

They’d outlasted their party guests last time, because of course Ransom and Holster had insisted on a New Year’s Eve kegster. What they hadn’t factored in was how few other students were around (the dorms weren’t even open, so Will and Nursey were crashing at the Haus). By 12:05, after a round of sloppy kisses from Samwell’s most enthusiastic d-men, almost everyone started the trek back to their own homes and apartments.

Nursey had suggested they finish off the night with When Harry Met Sally and Will should’ve known from the glint in Holster’s eye that something was up. By the time Sally dove into her salad, Ransom and Billy Crystal had the same expression on their faces, Will was blushing, Nursey was cackling, and Holster drank his champagne with a delighted smugness. Will had almost started to wonder if that was what Holster’s actual -- nope, not going there, here there be dragons.

As if on cue, the door to the Haus banged open and hockey players streamed in. Ransom and Holster had decided to come in for the holiday (“It’s tradition, bros!” “But it was only one--” “Shhh,  little d-man...” “I’m as tall as you, Ransom!” “..don’t question tradition.”). Ollie and Wicks appeared to be carrying most of the groceries, with Nursey trailing behind. Will recognized that soft, contemplative smile and knew what usually followed; he reached out his arm to catch Nursey right as he tripped on the door frame.

“Yo, Dex, thanks, dude,” Nursey said, finally looking up.

“Dexy! We’re watching When Harry Met Sally again!” There was that smile on Holster’s face again, this time directed at Ransom, who was gleefully outlining the evening’s plans.

Will helped Pacer and Wicks unload the groceries, glad that they’d remembered the ingredients for cookies and hot chocolate. This year it would only be members of the hockey team, so Will wanted to put his new barista and baking skills to work. He left the others to finish setting up the living room and started the cookie dough. By the time it was in the refrigerator to chill, the movie was queued up, the twinkle lights lit (Bitty had really gone above and beyond to make the Haus cozy this year. Love looked good on him.), and everyone was settled on the pillows.

 _Oh. Right. That's right. I forgot. You're a man._  
_What was that supposed to mean?_ _  
Nothing. It's just that all men are sure it never happened to them and all women at one time or other have done it, so you do the math._

Will should’ve seen it coming. He’d seen the smirk on Nursey’s face when the diner scene approached, but he wasn’t sure it was possible to be prepared for this. Before Holster could even start on his planned performance, Will heard the moan from his right side.

He felt the blush creeping down his neck, and thanked God that everyone was too distracted by the noises coming out of Nursey’s mouth to notice that Will had stopped breathing. With one last moan, Nursey tilted his head back and threw his hands out to the side, thankfully missing Will (he doesn’t think he’d have survived actual contact). Nursey lifted his head back up, smoothly reached for his drink (for the first time in his life), and went back to watching the movie.

“Extra points for the quick recovery, man. He's got you there, Holster.”

“Bro. That was sw’awesome! I can’t even be mad you stole my thunder.”

“I’ll have what he’s having...”

High fives were exchanged and Will regained just enough control of himself to stand up, sputtering something about the cookies, and headed into the kitchen. Will focused on methodically scooping out the dough. He wanted the cookies to bake evenly, needed a distraction from the way Nursey’s bottom lip jutted out slightly when he moaned, the way his eyes closed -- nope, no. He had cookies to scoop. Evenly.

Soon the cookies were in the oven and Will started the hot chocolate - real hot chocolate. Bitty had trained him well; no powdered mix here. He soon had the chocolate chopped and the milk heating to a simmer on the stove. Nursey walked in just as Will started to stir the pot, hooking his chin over Will’s shoulder.

“Need any help?”

Will focused on stirring the creamy liquid and tried to think of a task that would be somewhat Nursey-proof.

“You wanna make the whipped cream?”

“Sure,” Nursey said. “Show me how?”

Will briefly contemplated just getting out a mason jar, but decided spilled cream from the bowl and whisk would be preferable to spilled cream and broken glass. He showed Nursey how to whisk air into the cream and turned back to the stove.

A few minutes later, Will heard grumbling from the corner. “Why’sit take so long?”

Will glanced in the bowl. “Almost there, Nurse. Put those stupid biceps to work.”

Again, Will should've seen this coming. “Been looking at my biceps, Poindexter?”

“Shuddup and whisk, Nurse.” Will felt that damn blush returning. He heard the swishing of the cream get quieter and he peered into the bowl. Nursey was still whisking, his tongue sticking out the corner of his mouth. Somehow he'd managed to get cream all over the counters, his shirt, and his (stupid, beautiful) face.

“It's done, Nurse.” Will reached out and put his hand over Nursey’s wrist, stilling his frantic movements. He gently took the bowl and whisk out of his hands and set it on the counter.

Slowly, Will moved his hand up to Nursey’s face, brushing a splash of cream away from his cheek. Nursey looked up at him and Will realized he hadn't moved his hand away. He leaned closer, waiting for a reaction; Nursey’s breath stuttered, but he didn't move away. That would work. Will closed the distance between them, lightly pressing their lips together. He moved his hand from Nursey’s wrist to his waist, gently pulling him in closer at the same time Nursey stepped forward and slotted their feet together.

The timer for the cookies beeped, interrupting the quiet, but neither boy moved far. Nursey leaned forward, pressing their foreheads together.

“Come on, let's take the cookies out and Skype Chowder,” Will said finally, without stepping away.

“Shouldn't we wait until midnight?” Derek asked.

“And risk interrupting his and Farmer's, uh, celebrating? I don’t know about you, Nurse, but I don’t wanna be caught in the middle of that again.”

Nursey waggled his eyebrows, “Oh I don’t know…”

Will rolled his eyes and put the plate of cookies in Nursey’s hands. “Can you manage to get this plate to the living room in one piece?”

“Yo, chill, Dexy.” Another thing Will really should have seen coming. They walked back into the living room to hear Auld Lang Syne starting to play.

_You see? That is just like you, Harry. You say things like that, and you make it impossible for me to hate you._

Will nestled down into the pillow pile and pulled a blanket over his and Derek’s laps, then reached over and braided their fingers together. He pulled out his phone with his other hand and pressed the call button.

“Happy New Year, Derek.”


	3. Senior Year

_What does this song mean? My whole life, I don't know what this song means. I mean, 'Should old acquaintance be forgot'? Does that mean that we should forget old acquaintances, or does it mean if we happened to forget them, we should remember them, which is not possible because we already forgot?_

Derek woke up to an arm draped across his face. Chowder wasn't even next to him, but had still somehow managed to make contact with no less than three people, including Farmer, who was tucked in between them. _Cuddling champ_ , Derek thought.

The light from the Christmas tree glowed softly through the walls of the blanket fort that Dex had made the taddies put together as a team-building exercise. He was a great captain. Everyone had worried a little when they hadn't been named co-captains, that it might strain their fledgling relationship. Derek smiled to himself. They had _severely_ underestimated his competence kink.

Derek could just see the edge of the tree and the folded paper ornament that Dex made for him, next to the lobster holding a hammer Derek had hot glued. Everyone thought Dex had made a sweet, heartfelt ornament, but Derek knew if he looked close, the lyrics to Never Gonna Give You Up were mixed in with the poetry. Dex was always more creative with his chirping than Derek was. He needed to start planning next year's anniversary ornament now if he wanted to stand a chance.

Next year. Derek's chest tightened at the thought. He stretched, trying to loosen the knot, and focused on taking a few deep breaths.

 _Things you can see._ He opened his eyes, methodically taking in everything around him. His eyes traced over the splotches of hot chocolate on his mug on the coffee table. To his right, he could see Whiskey’s chest rise and fall, his breathing steady in spite of the fluffy pillow he’d buried his face in. Tango was in the corner, leaning against the couch. His mouth twitched in his sleep, as inquisitive in his dreams as when awake.

 _Things you can feel._ Derek played at the pulls in his blanket from where his cat burrowed into it over Christmas. He made a mental note to ask Will how to fix that; he didn't want to face Mrs. Poindexter at Christmas next year if he hadn't kept her blanket in good shape.

 _Breathe._ He took one last deep breath. Dex would still be there next year. They could still come to the Haus, help fulfill the alumni quota. Or maybe they could stay home, at their home. Curl up by the fire (probably the TV fire, if he was being realistic. Someday they'd have a house, with a fireplace, and he could watch Will chop wood to his heart's content).

Maybe it was time to start their own traditions.

Derek stood up, wrapping the blanket around his shoulders, and headed upstairs to find Will. Chowder’s door was open and Derek’s shoulders began to loosen as he walked through, climbing through the window onto the roof like so many times before.

“Hey babe,” Will smiled as he helped steady Derek.

Derek wrapped the blanket around them both and snuggled under Will’s arm.

“S’cold out.”

“It's not too bad. Just cold enough to cuddle.”

Derek smiled. “What do you think about renting a cabin next year, see if any of the guys want to come out? One with a fireplace? Tango Skyped Bitty with me, he can take over Haus hot chocolate duties next year.”

“And maybe even not spill the first batch. I guess I could let Whiskey take the Meg Ryan award next year. He almost took it this year,” Will said.

Derek scoffed, Whiskey did fine, sure, but Dex had surprised everyone but Farmer, who was sitting next to Derek, smirking. Thank God she was there to take Derek's mug from his hand when Will started dragging his fingers across his chest,his face, his hair. Will had never blushed once during the performance (which was one clue it wasn't real, Derek had noted, with the tiny corner of his mind still functioning), just shouted one final “YES!” and went right back to his hot chocolate.

Will interrupted Derek's musing, “And don't think I don't see right through this. You just want to see me chop wood shirtless again.”

“I didn't want you to get overheated!”

“You'd ‘spilled’ your entire water on me, babe, little chance of that.”

“Well then, I didn't want you to get cold. So should I bring up the cabin to Chowder?”

“Definitely. I don't think Farmer ever told him she tried out for the Woodsmen team.  The schedule wouldn't work with volleyball, but she knows how to handle an ax.”

“You two are menaces and I love it. Chowder’s face will be the perfect anniversary present.”

Will just grinned,  “Happy New Year, babe.”

“Happy New Year, Will.”

_Well, maybe it just means that we should remember that we forgot them or something. Anyway, it's about old friends._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading! This is my first fic, so feedback is super appreciated!


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